


Til the End of the Long, Long Line

by uponasoapbox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uponasoapbox/pseuds/uponasoapbox
Summary: Post Endgame (spoilers).Bucky makes his peace. It is enough.





	Til the End of the Long, Long Line

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Til the End of the Long, Long Line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18644980) by [Yueluo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yueluo/pseuds/Yueluo)



> Contains dialogue directly from Endgame. 
> 
> Listen to Bing Crosby's version of "It's Been a Long, Long Time" for maximum effect.

If James Buchanan Barnes knew anything, anyone, it was Steven Grant Rogers. Bucky’s brain had been pulled apart and stitched together again, his limbs torn off, his blood replaced with poison. But even when he was nothing, when he didn’t know his own name, or even his own body, Bucky knew Steve. Felt him tugging on his heartstrings from lifetimes away. 

And Bucky was lucky enough that, no matter how long he thought he’d lost Steve, he always came back. 

When they were twelve years old and Steve had pneumonia that he insisted was just a cold, Bucky thought he’d lost him. But Steve came back. 

When Bucky shipped off to join the 107th with nothing but a duffle bag and the sense that he’d never see Steve again, never get to wrap an arm around those scrawny shoulders, well. He’d been part right about that, but Steve came back. 

When Bucky felt himself slipping on the train, saw Steve’s hand clench around nothing, heard the hoarseness of Steve’s voice (Bucky would never admit this to a soul, but stupidly enough, his first thought as he began to fall was what a shame it was he wouldn’t be able to kiss the frown off Steve’s face), Bucky figured they’d reached the end of the line and made his peace. But Steve came back, even if it did take a long, long time. 

When Bucky (was that still his name?) thought he was fighting ghosts but couldn’t bear to let his phantom drown in the river, he figured he’d done his duty, proved himself capable of more than he’d realized. He figured he’d never see the ghost’s blue eyes again. But they came back. 

When Bucky couldn’t trust himself but knew he could trust Steve, when he let himself be taken into a lab again, frozen again, he told himself that never seeing Steve again was a fair price to pay if he knew he’d never hurt him again. But Steve came back. 

When Bucky felt himself pulling apart, his body flaking away, he let himself call out Steve’s name, just once, because he’s only human, after all. But in a flash, Bucky was whole again, and Steve came back. 

This time, though? This was different. Sam and Bruce seemed worried that Steve wouldn’t make it back, but Bucky knew better. Steve would never miss another date. He wouldn’t dare. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Steve was tired. Tired of coming back for Bucky, and being left alone over and over again in the in betweens. Bucky could see it in his eyes as Steve pretended to adjust his gloves, his belt, his grip on Mjolnir (which, for all this talk of “worthy,” Bucky was sure was designed to be lifted only by the most stubborn pains in the ass around). 

And Bucky didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he could express that he knew, that Steve didn’t have to pretend, that he’d come back enough times, that it was enough. 

It wasn’t enough, not really, but it felt inevitable. 

Steve had remarked one day, the last they’d spent together before the dust (was it years ago, or a few hours, or a lifetime?), that the universe was trying to keep them apart. Bucky had never been one to believe in destiny, but then again, he wasn’t sure he believed in free will either anymore. 

So when Steve took a long breath and said “I’d follow you to hell and back, you know that?” Bucky had simply snorted to himself and continued on checking his weapons for the coming battle. 

“Yeah, I know, Steve. You’ve done it before. A few times.”

“And I’d do it again, but sometimes I wonder, if maybe the world only sends you there because I’m holding on so tight. Like, maybe if I wasn’t so worried about keeping us together, we wouldn’t be apart in the first place.”

It had taken most of Bucky’s self-control to stop himself from bursting into tears, or smacking Steve upside the head, or demanding to know what kind of shitty philosophy books he’d been reading, but he’d managed to rein himself in. “Told you I wasn’t worth any of it,” he’d forced out between gritted teeth instead. 

Steve had glared, made his typical huffing sound. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re worth all of it, ten times over again. I just wish sometimes-” he’d trailed off, fixing his eyes on Bucky and reaching a hand out to grasp Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky, who hadn’t been able to make eye contact, just stared at Steve’s lips, placing his good hand on the back of Steve’s neck, brushing his thumb over the skin gently. “Me too, Steve,” he’d said, voice thicker than he’d hoped it would be. He’d let his eyes fall closed, just for a moment, preparing himself for the inevitable separation coming. 

And maybe, just maybe, Bucky had felt the brush of lips meeting his, once, twice, maybe once more. But Bucky didn’t trust his mind. 

After that, it was time to get in formation, and Bucky never got the time to ask. He’d been too busy with the adrenaline, the raccoon, the dust. And what was there to be gained from asking, from thinking on it, really?

But now Bucky wasn’t so sure. Steve hadn’t seen him in five years, and Bucky knew in Steve’s eyes that it would be more than that before they met again, before Steve came back again, and now was the time ask, if ever there was one. Bucky knew Steve would come back sooner if he asked. Which was why he couldn’t. 

Instead, Bucky let himself go along with Steve’s little play. “Don’t do anything stupid til I get back,” Steve said, angling his body away from Sam, trying to keep him from suspecting.

“How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky remembered the words, even if they were over seventy years old. He wondered if it would make Steve feel better if he told them that he’d remember the words on his deathbed. Probably not. 

Holding Steve in his arms, Bucky thought to himself that this would be the last time he wrapped his arm around these broad shoulders, the last time he felt strong hands on his back, and he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to beg Steve to take him along, to stop giving destiny what it wanted, but he couldn’t do it. 

“I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” he said instead, instantly regretting it as he saw a flash of something dark in Steve’s eyes, be it guilt, or shame, or anger. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Buck,” Steve said (he didn’t say he’d come back he didn’t say it would only be five seconds he didn’t say he didn’t). 

Bucky smiled, the best that he could remember how. It felt more like a grimace, but he was trying. 

And then, Steve was gone for five seconds. 

Bucky mourned. 

When Banner and Wilson began to panic, Bucky cast his gaze outward, because they had a date, and Steve would never let himself miss it. 

And there he was. Bucky didn’t need to see him, not yet. He knew what he’d find. He could feel it, tugging on his heartstrings. There was nothing for him to do, now. 

“Sam. Go ahead,” he said. Because it was Sam’s turn to mourn now, Sam’s turn to understand, to know. 

Bucky watched them, watched Steve’s new, old face explain, watched his weakened hands pass the torch, and he felt the questions before Sam or Steve even had the chance to ask. 

Yes, Bucky would do this. Yes, Steve, you can rest now, too. No, it wasn’t selfish. Yes, you deserved to see her again. No, that didn’t keep Bucky from being jealous, even if he understood. 

It was no matter. If Bucky’s first destiny was to wax and wane around Steve Rogers, then his second was to serve by Captain America’s side. 

Steve had come back, once, twice, again and again, and Bucky would do this for him.

Not the ending that he had always hoped for, but better than he had ever deserved. The end (the start?) of a long, long line. 

It was enough.


End file.
